We had to wake up early to make a 7:55am flight. But apparently, “early” wasn’t early enough.
We got to Love Field an hour before our flight. We haven’t flown with children in so long that we (mistakenly) thought an hour would be enough time to get through security and to our gate, since Love is usually less-congested than DFW. Also? Hubs and I are staunch carry-on-ers, and we neglected to take into account that the kids’ large suitcase needed to be checked because it was so large. OOPS.
While we were at the counter checking Big Bertha, Hubs decided to upgrade our tickets so that we could go through the less-crowded security lane. Great thinking, Babe!
We go over to the security line and present our upgraded tickets to the TSA “Official” (snicker). She tells us we can go through the fast lane but our kids can’t. Whaaaaa???? We point to our 2 little kids and ask if she’s serious. (She is) After some arguing back and forth, we understand that she will not let us all through because we didn’t upgrade the kids’ tickets, however, we were not given the option to do that. We told her that and she told us to go back to the ticketing agent. Wasting more precious time, we did, only to be told that the TSA person was wrong but since she was being such a royal wanker about it, why don’t we go to a different security line – one that’s usually less crowded.
Of course the day we really need things to go smoothly (and quickly), the other, “usually less crowded” security line was crowded. And full of people who had apparently never flown before. Full of people who didn’t know you had to take your shoes off to go through. (Middle finger salute to Richard Reid) Full of people who were mystified at having to take cell phones out of their pockets to go through the *metal* detector. Full of people who are still open-mouth awed at the invention of flight.
Long story short, we finnnnnnally made it through, but of course our gate was #12, as in: we start at #1 and must go down to the very end of the terminal, to the very last gate, which is #12.
I sent Hubs on while I wrangled the kids back into their shoes and backpacks. They were about to close the doors on the plane until he appeared, and waited for us to get on. Which apparently, on Southwest Airlines, is unheard of. We pushed away from the gate 3 minutes late, which also, is apparently unheard of.
Such is the power of prayer.
We didn’t get to sit together as a family (or really anywhere near one another) but the kids did great, I’m proud to say. They sat by nice people (I prayed for that, too) and used their manners when ordering food and drink.
When we landed in Albuquerque, we rented a car and drove for 4-1/2 hours to Durango to stay with friends for a couple of days before we headed to our cabin. This was our drive there:
Hubs having to used my Burts Bees chap stick and having pink lips was the best part of that awful day up to that point.
Things only got better once we arrived at our friends’ neighborhood. How can this *not* be an omen that things are looking up:
I’ll take a deer’s butt over a TSA’s butt any day of the week.